


It Just Helps, You Know?

by walmer92



Series: The Senses Series [1]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-19
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-11-29 21:30:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/691659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walmer92/pseuds/walmer92
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One way that Brian knows Justin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Just Helps, You Know?

**Author's Note:**

> This was initially somthing I wrote to help with writer' block during The Mind's Manipulations. It turned into to possibly my favourite piece of writing, and has now become the first part of a series. Each story in the series is about a different two people in a different fandom, and they can all be read as a stand alone. This story follows the canon for Queer as Folk, so as long as you like the show, this shouldn't cause you any problems, but on the off chance you've just stumbled onto this story and don't mind spoilers, please bear in min that it contains explicit sex between two men, a violent homophobic attack, and references drug abuse and cancer.

The first time Brian smells Justin he is high and sitting in the back of his jeep where the smell of leather and petrol and road all mixes together with the scent of hot, horny boy. Flying on E Brian tucks his nose into the corner of Justin’s neck, right where it meets his shoulder, and inhales. Then he feels Justin’s dick stiffening beneath his hand and turns his attention to other matters.

Later that night Brian is trailing his mouth down Justin’s back, tasting the salty sweat mingled with the taste of his skin. He dips into the curve at the small of his back, then up, up, until he is licking at the taste of him and suddenly he is hit once again by the smell of him, darker here, earthy and intoxicating. He pulls away a few seconds later, to say the words “Now you know what rimming is.” But he doesn’t stop. And Justin loves it.

The next morning he is genuinely irritated to find that he has let the kid stay, and even more irritated to find that he doesn’t want him gone. He has to tell him, for the sake of his pride, that he doesn’t remember his name, and pretends like he doesn’t remember the previous night. He truthfully doesn’t remember the juggling and the handstands, but he can remember every sigh, every moan, every stroke of his hands across pale perfect skin, and every stroke he made inside the tight, wet heat of Justin. Justin. He had been so high that it takes a phone message to remind him of his kid’s birth (although he isn’t sure that that isn’t just a form of denial) but he remembers the other kid’s name.

He goes to find him in the shower and the moment he sees him, God, he wants him. In the shower he is slightly disappointed that all the evidence of their night together has washed away. Of course he will never see him again, but he could wish that his smell will stay on the kid for a little longer. He could wish that, if he was a romantic man. Instead he washes him with his soap and then fucks him again, so that the kid can a least take away a little piece of him. Leave him with some nice memories of his first fuck.

He comes back. No matter what Brian does he comes back, and all Brian has to do is look at him to remember the feel of his skin, the sound of him, how tight he had been. His intoxicating smell. Only has to remember to want him.

At first he always smells of some generic soap his Mommy buys (and doesn’t that make Brian feel old) along with a faint trace of ink or charcoal, and then something that is just – Justin. Then he moves into the loft and for a while he smells of there, of Brian, of his expensive shampoo. Even when he is chafing at the bit, desperate to get away from this little blond boy that has invaded his life, he loves the imprint he has made on Justin.

In New York Justin smells sweaty, and a little bit afraid, and despite his bravado Brian can see a matching glint of fear in his eyes. But Brian is tired and pissed and horny and probably smells worse so he fucks him hard, to punish him and to make Justin his again. It’s their hottest fuck yet.

After that Justin smells of the cheap soap that Debbie buys from the Big Q, and like the food in the diner, and the combination makes Brian feel slightly sick. But the smell proves to him that Justin might not be living with him, but he is still close, and no matter what he might tell the world a part of him is terrified of Justin actually taking the hint one day and leaving him. So he fucks Justin, because he wants him, and he wants him to stay, and to change that god awful smell to something that is equally reassuring but doesn’t make him feel like throwing up.

On the night of the Prom Justin smells clean and faintly of kiwi; he has slicked back his hair with some gel, and the slightly chemical scent has settled over him. He has scrubbed himself so hard that the ever present smell of the artist in him, some hint of charcoal or paint, is for the first time completely gone. Brian doesn’t miss it. He thinks Justin has never been more perfect, in any way.

Blood smells like copper. Brian has always known that, has tasted enough of his own to know that the taste matches the smell. It has never struck him as it does that night, when blood pours out of the boy he suddenly knows he loves. It pools beneath Justin’s head and covers Brian’s hands and all at once it seems that the whole world is blood. The slick feel of it sliding over his hands, the sound of his own pounding in his ears, the colour red swimming before his eyes. The taste and smell of copper filling his mouth and nostrils. Brian wonders if the next time he sees Justin he will smell of blood. Then he decides it doesn’t matter, as long as he does see him again.

The scarf stays with him and so does the copper smell, floating around him, tainting everything he does with the stench of guilt. When he finally sees Justin again, when the young man holds him and tries to absolve him of his guilt, the smell of copper swims around him and Brian isn’t sure who it comes from. Nothing changes. He takes Justin in and tries to fix him, but still the copper stench clings to him, and he cannot let it go.

Then suddenly Justin remembers the bat, remembers the feeling of copper blood pouring out of him. Suddenly Brian can touch Justin again, and finally the little blond haired boy reaches up and quietly removes the bloodied scarf. The scent of blood disappears and is replaced with Justin, clean and whole and smelling once again of Brian’s shampoo, a final proof that he is alright, that he belongs to Brian once again. Brian feels absolved.

Soon Justin begins to smell of other men. He begins to try and be what Brian wants. Brian is both happy and scared for him. Glad that he can stop worrying about his feelings, so fragile after the bashing, but resentful that he feels guilt at not trying to be what Justin wants. But he can’t do it. He doesn’t know how and he doesn’t want to. The hustler he picks up for Justin smells of sweat and cum and cheap cologne. The roses he picks up smell fresh and sweet and Brian tosses them down and pretends that he never noticed them, has never been tempted to buy them for the man waiting at home for him. Carefully he shuts his guilt away.

His conscience prickles and so when Justin begins to smell like one other man and one only, he says nothing and ignores it. He says nothing when all Justin ever seems to smell of is soap. Finally, when he can no longer ignore it, he tells Justin he stinks and leaves him lying horny, hard, and humiliated on his hardwood floor. He goes out and fucks at least four guys with blond hair and blue eyes and when none of them smell like Justin he pretends that he doesn’t notice.

Justin leaves, and Brian tries to comfort himself with a look-a-like but when he closes his eyes the smell seemed foreign. Every time he sees Justin he has to school himself not to reach out and touch his soft hair. Not to hold him to him and drink in his smell. He is so desperate for even the tiniest bit of him that he makes constant excuses to see him, for things that he could easily have used someone else for. He doesn’t care, and pretends that Justin is the only person he could turn to for a carnival poster.

He feels vindicated when Justin saves him from the accusations of his nephew. No one else could have done that. No one else would. Justin ties his bracelet back on his wrist, looking him in the eye the whole while, and then walks away. Brian takes off the bracelet the moment Justin is gone and tries not to hope that it meant more than he knows it did. He locks the bracelet away. It makes him so desperate that despite his promise to himself he interferes with Justin’s relationship with the fiddler. He tells himself that it doesn’t mean anything.

When Justin turns up at Vanguard Brian’s first emotion is surprise, which quickly turns to anger. He has been prepared for Justin to try something since he saw him at Babylon but he hadn’t expected to see him here. What had been difficult before now becomes impossible. Even though he hardly ever sees Justin he knows he is in the building and he teeters between making up excuses to visit the art department and trying to stay completely away. The one time he actually needs to be down there he finds himself alone with his old lover, and ends up so close to him that he can smell him. He stands behind the desk to carefully hide his hard on. Justin’s shit eating grin could just be part of the permanently cocky facade he seems determined to maintain in front of Brian. Or he might have noticed his effect on him. Either way, Brian has to get Justin out of there.

His opportunity comes and he tells himself that he is glad, glad to have the annoying, stalking blond finally out of his life. Until the last minute when he suddenly cannot let him leave, has to grab his arm and hope that all isn’t lost. Justin kisses him and if he smells a little different he tastes the same. Justin leaves him with just that behind, just the taste and the smell of him. Brian knows that all Justin would have to do is ask, and Brian would take him back.

He asks, and Brian smirks at him and uses clever double meanings, but inside he feels like jumping up and down. Instead he fucks Justin, imprinting his own smell back onto him and promising himself to make sure Justin never leaves him again. Afterwards, in the few moments before they pick themselves up and go back to the loft to continue, Brian buries his nose in the crook of Justin’s neck and inhales. Sweat, paint, skin, ink, sex, Brian, Justin. Justin. Brian smiles. All is right with the world again.

For a while Justin fluctuates between the weird, fruity shit he keeps at Daphne’s: kiwi shampoo; passion-fruit conditioner; mango soap, and the expensive French shit that still doesn’t make Brian look any younger. Then Brian goes broke, and it becomes plain unscented soap, which is completely over powered by the smell of paint that always lingers around Justin. It sometimes makes Brian want to sneeze, but he doesn’t care. It stays that way even after Brian starts Kinnetic, because Justin has some bee in his bonnet about not being a pussy fag, and apparently Pink Posse guys don’t use fruit soaps or expensive French shit.

Brian pretends not to be scared for him, but breathes a sigh of relief when he smells like fruit salad again. In the hospital he misses Justin’s smell, and the scent of lemon air freshener makes him feel ill. He thinks he sees Justin while riding injured on the Liberty Ride, and then thinks that he is home again when he feels his arms around him and smells his familiar smell after the long fraught journey. He asks him to move in.

Justin comes back from LA smelling of the sea and a lot less of oil paint. Gradually his smell changes back to what it was before he went and Brian, who was worried when Justin confessed he hadn’t completely wanted to come back, breathes a sigh of relief. Justin leaves him anyway, and Brian carefully ignores the fact that he hasn’t washed Justin’s pillow since he left, because he needs something of him still with him, even if it is only his smell.

After the bombing Justin smells of smoke and ash and sweat, and it’s terrifying, so terrifying that saying ‘I love you’ becomes the easiest thing in the world, so Brian says it. He knows that he can’t live without Justin now, so he goes back and asks him to marry him. Justin smells like paint, like creation, when he says no, and Brian takes him in his arms to try and change his mind. Brian decides to sell his loft, his fuck pad, his altar to Brian Kinney, and buys a house with stables and a pool. Justin still smells like oil paint when he picks him up and takes him there, but he says yes and flings himself into Brian’s arms. By the time they leave, he just smells like Brian.

Justin decides to leave for New York, and Brian takes the credit for persuading him to go. He holds him, kisses him, touches him, desperately, drinks in his smell, and hopes that like their first fuck always kept Justin coming back, this one will keep him wanting Brian. He falls asleep holding Justin in his arms and wakes to find himself alone, the only thing left of Justin the smell of sex lingering on the sheets. Brian drinks too much, gets high with Michael and goes to work and pretends that Justin never happened.

He told Justin before he left that it was only time, that they would see each other again some day, but he finds now that time drags too slowly. So he flies out to see Justin whenever he can and makes Justin do the same. He is surprised to find that it’s actually him that makes the first move, but Justin becomes successful quickly, and Brian becomes the one who holds their relationship together. He doesn’t mind.

Justin now smells like expensive unscented toiletries, and the ever present ink and paint artist smell. Sometimes, if Brian surprises him, or he gets wasted and wakes up just before he rushes to the airport, he’ll smell of a trick, but Brian doesn’t care. He still tricks a lot himself, and he knows that when he takes his leave of Justin, or Justin goes back to New York, it will be with the smell of Brian imprinted on his skin.

It’s only been a year and Justin is already more successful than Lindsay or the pretentious cunt of an art critic thought he would be, as successful as Brian knew he would be. So he waits, for when Justin will be able to come home, for when he’ll only smell of his ridiculously expensive shampoo. Will only smell of Brian.

And if time seems to drag slowly, Brian tries not to mind. His boy is out there making his mark on the world, and he will come home. After all, he always had before. And Justin doesn’t need to know that Brian always keeps something of his when he leaves. It just helps, you know, to remember his smell.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Currently there are only two completed stories in the series, as my third choice is a currently ongoing television show, and I haven't made a firm choice for my other two. This series is based on the senses, and will, obviously, eventually have five stories. If you have any suggestions for fandoms or people (they do not have to be a couple) you would like me to write about, please do let me know. I hope you enjoyed reading.


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